


As the Rain, Drop by Drop, Carves Out Stone

by Enonem



Category: The Shadow Campaigns - Django Wexler
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Time Skips, getting old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 23:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18980422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enonem/pseuds/Enonem
Summary: Marcus is king and Janus is banished. How are their new situations affecting them as the years go by, and how much of a pull does the past have on them?Three snapshot, at three very distant points in time, of their relationship through the years.Slash if you squint.





	1. 1215

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years after the Epilogue

The king of Vordan threw a guilty look at the empty room around him as he opened the letter in his hands. The correspondence was not a secret, exactly. Raesinia knew about it, though she had never mentioned it. Marcus strongly suspected that she had been swallowing her disapproval for his sake. He pushed his conflicted emotions to one side and unfolded the small bundle of paper covered in Janus’ familiar, elegant handwriting.

_Dear Marcus,_

_I must apologise for my long silence. My recent pursuits have been absorbing me in such a way that I have not had the time to pick up the pen to write to you until now._

Marcus snorted. What Janus meant was that he had been working so hard he had been forgetting to sleep and eat. He allowed himself a smile picturing the exasperation of whoever was at his side now, trying to save Janus from himself.

_I have to say, you seem to be getting used to politics and Court intrigue rather well. A surprising amount of news reach me here. I have heard about a potentially disastrous agricultural reform proposed by the Deputies. As I understand the matter, it was quickly reshaped into something much more straightforward and simple. The new law seems to me to be much in the style of a certain far-risen officer of my acquaintance, but was apparently proposed by a nobleman whom I remember you complaining about in your last letter; I believe he was giving the Crown some grief over his (to my personal knowledge, rather limited) gifts not being properly recognised._

_That was rather tactfully done, my friend. It would appear I did not have too much of a bad influence on you after all._

Janus’ rare moments of self awareness were always a blessing. Marcus’ laughter was cut short by the sudden grip of nostalgia.

When Winter had brought him the first letter, Marcus had not been surprised. In fact, he had almost been expecting it. Janus’ resourcefulness had become literally proverbial and there was no doubt that he would be able to get in touch if he wanted to.

When agents from Winter’s Ministry were dispatched to Khandar and the neighbouring regions to deal with the resurgence of magic in the area, the only thing that kept Marcus from expecting a message was that he thought Janus may not have anything to say to him. Always looking ahead, Janus never did anything that did not directly serve his purposes. There was no reason to think there would be any thought in his mind to spare for old subordinates.

Evidently, Marcus’ assessment had been unfair to Janus.

Their last verbal exchange flashed in his mind, as it did more often than he was prepared to admit.

_“Thank you, sir. For everything. It’s been an honor.”  
“Likewise, Marcus, more than you can imagine.”_

Janus had indeed spent the energy to begin and maintain a slow correspondence from the other side of the world, with no apparent use for it, other than uncharacteristic sentimentality.

_I was pleased to read in your last letter that Raesinia was expecting again. I hope, by the time my reply finds you, that she has had a successful delivery and both she and the child are healthy._

_I think I can say I know you, Marcus, so while I know that nothing I can say will alleviate your worries, I also know (and consider myself honour bound to say) that you will undoubtedly do an excellent job in raising the children. You underestimate both your intelligence and your heart when you say you have nothing to teach them. You can trust me on that point._

_I only have one more thing I would like to say and that is that princes really ought to have some measure of Royal upbringing._

_I surprise myself in saying this. But knowing you and Raesinia (and Winter as well), if you were all left to your own devices the children would spend their days climbing trees and evading tutors. Although I must concede that it might make them happier._

Unsure whether to laugh or be embarrassed, Marcus looked over his shoulder to make sure he was still alone. He swore right then and there that Raesinia would never know about this particular passage. Her attitude towards Janus had softened considerably. But, while praises of Marcus may ingratiate her, she would never look with a kind eye on Janus telling her how to raise her children.

Whether Janus had felt that he had overstepped or not, from that point in the letter he moved away from Marcus’ life and began an account of his own activities in the past several months. Unlike Marcus, Janus seemed to have had very little time for everyday cares, as his life was still oscillating between minor revolutions and exploration for its own sake. To Marcus it was like hearing echoes from a past life.

Reading Janus’ letters, of which the latest was only the fourth, was a bittersweet experience. Marcus was relieved to be able to still have some sort of friendship with Janus, on the other hand, each exchange made him more aware of how much he missed the man.

 _I am still endlessly fascinated by the local population. I believe I wrote to you about their military ingenuity. I will not be so modest as to say that the victorious outcome of this latest war was independent of my presence. But I must admit that my contribution amounted to little more than putting sparks to tinder and offering some inspired leadership. Together with the occasional theatrics, as you may not be surprised to read._ \- Marcus could all but see Janus’ summer lightning smile flashing at him. - _Their battle formations are so flexible and suited to the local terrain that I had little to add and much to learn._

_However, I recently had the opportunity to repay my educational debt. As you can imagine, in these hot lands the main concern is always water. In this particular area there is always either too little or too much of it. The people have a developed a rather clever piece of engineering that…_

What followed was a rather lengthy explanation of a peculiar method of gathering and storing water that allowed it to keep fresh for long periods of time. Janus had naturally set about “improving” upon the traditional technology and adapted it for rapid, long distance transport. He had even drawn a diagram. Marcus understood a little less than half of Janus’ scientifically detailed explanation. But he could almost see those huge gray eyes shine with excitement.

_They really are a most ingenious people. And not only where engineering and war are concerned. Some of their social concepts are extremely interesting and you should see their art, Marcus! It is quite wonderful in its simplicity. It would not leave you untouched._

Janus knew perfectly well that Marcus had no interest in that kind of thing. He had spent a decade in Khandar without appreciating anything more cultural than their strong black coffee.

A pleasantry?

Or an invitation?

Sometimes, when the burden of ruling became too heavy, or in the rare days when he and Raesinia had a bad fight, Marcus would be caught by the mad idea of leaving everything behind and heading south. Back to the strange comfort of being at Janus’ side. He would never do it, of course. Political problems were overcome, he and Raes would reconcile and of course he could never abandon his children. Or his sister.

Winter at least understood. Marcus may not have been able to run all the way to Janus, but he could always take temporary refuge with her. Getting drunk and exchanging army stories was not the most dignified behaviour for a king and one of his ministers and certainly not how Marcus had expected to finally bond with his little sister, but it kept them both sane.

_I hope you will forgive my rambling. I am in a rather elated mood at the moment, as I have just concluded what I believe I can safely say was a very successful campaign, as I have mentioned above. Although it veered somewhat close to disaster only a few days ago. Nobility appears to be the same the world over. Some individuals, who were desperately clinging to the conviction that I was merely their tool, thought it a good idea to send yet another pompous oaf to put me in my place. I have to admit that this time I did not show all the self restraint I did in Antova._

Winter burst out laughing. It was evening now. A cosy fire was roaring in Marcus’ studio, a newly opened bottle of brandy was steadily emptying and the two of them were deeply engaged in their new family tradition.

Janus’ letters were addressed to Marcus and Winter always delivered them unopened, but they were clearly meant for her as well.

Marcus stared bemusedly at his sister, who was caught in a fit of booze-enhanced giggles. “Clearly I missed something” he said.

“It was… it was De Ferre” Winter managed once she got her laughter under control. “When Maurisk sent him to relieve Janus. He behaved like a complete cock but Janus was impeccably polite, at least in front of him. Afterwards I told him… I told him I was surprised he did not punch him in the face.”

“Are you saying,” said Marcus after a startled pause. “Are you saying he punched this one?”

Winter shrugged. “I think that’s what he’s saying. Hard to imagine, isn’t it?” She gestured for the bottle.

“It is. Should you be drinking this much?”

Winter rolled her eyes. “I saved the world. Pass the bottle.”

Marcus snorted and poured her another glass.

“You knew him better than me,” Winter continued. “But Janus was always bottling everything up, wasn’t he? It’s odd that he’d lose his patience with some idiot and slug him. Maybe he’s more relaxed now.”

“Relaxed?”

“Less tense. Not trying to be the image of perfection all the time. It would make him more spontaneous.” She swirled the liquor in her glass pensively. “I know a couple of things about that,” she muttered.

Marcus frowned. “Winter?”

She shook her head and grinned wide. “Nothing. Go on! What else does he say?” 

_I would go on, but I am reaching the end of this paper and writing materials are scarce to come by. Besides, I probably should not write too much about my exploits. However unlikely they are to touch Vordanai politics, I cannot run the risk of compromising my king’s integrity._

Winter snorted. Marcus couldn’t help but blush whenever Janus called him “his king”, which left him in no doubt that Janus did it on purpose. He did not want to know whether Winter was laughing at Janus’ words or at Marcus, so he kept his eyes stubbornly on the paper and read on.

_But I know well that it is a pointless concern. Whatever dangers may threaten Vordan these days, a corrupt Royal Family is certainly not one of them. I can catch glimpses of what you are doing from here and, if I may be allowed the arrogance of assuming that I have had some significant influence on most of you, what I see makes me very proud._

_I know the burden of political power was not easy for you to take up, Marcus. But I can see, from the thousand eyes of international rumour, that you took what was forced upon you and made it yours. I once saw Winter do the same, from a thousand red eyes that time. You two are much alike._

_And now I must leave you with my regards and the assurance that I am, as always,_  
_Very sincerely yours,_  
_J._

It was Winter’s time to blush. “I didn’t think he’d been able to see that.”

Marcus asked her what ‘that’ was and listened to her account of the Beast’s attack on a small Murnskai fort and how she had gone and got in the face of a confused officer and took command of his forces.

He smiled as he listened to his sister, but his mind was still on Janus’ letter. Each time he wrote he was more… sentimental was not the right word. Or maybe it was.

Marcus was not sure how to feel about that. He thought about what Winter had said. Maybe Janus really was just more spontaneous these days. It could be that losing everything and having to rebuild all of his plans had been good for him in a way. Taught him flexibility and self awareness.

_Or maybe…_

Winter had seen glimpses of Janus’ temper, but she had never had to stop him from attacking old women in a fit of irrational fury. She had never been on the receiving end of that burning glare.

Maybe he was just calmer now. Reacting to anger in the same way as many men accustomed to violence. Feeling homesick like any political exile would.

_Or maybe… Or maybe he’s beginning to lose control._

He looked at Winter. Booze in hand and smile solidly in place. Both weapons of a kind. She often joked about how she saved the world, but it wasn’t difficult to see the scars behind the humour. Was Janus doing the same in his letters?

Winter was surrounded by people who loved her and supported her.

Marcus could only hope that Janus was not alone.


	2. 1230

Marcus let himself sink in the decorated cushions with the full intention of never getting up again. He remembered Khandar being hot, but he had forgotten just how draining the heat was. Or perhaps it was just age. At thirty-five he may have been able to fight under the desert sun. Twenty years later even a pampered state visit, with shade and cold drinks never far, was a challenge.

He glanced at the pitcher of cold water on the other side of his room and was in the process of balancing the needs of his tired limbs with those of his parched throat when there was a knock at the door. Marcus closed his eyes and bit back a decidedly un-king-like reply.

“Yes?” he called instead.

“Begging your pardon your Majesty,” one of his personal guards said from the corridor. “Your presence is requested.”

Marcus sighed. His visit had been packed with more audiences and cultural visits than he thought would be even possible. He knew it was all aimed at the King of Vordan, rather than at Marcus himself. All the same it was intensely frustrating to be introduced to an endless list of matters he still remembered perfectly well from the ten years he had spent living in the damn country. Now here was yet another dignitary, just when he thought he could get some rest until morning.

“Can it not wait until tomorrow?” he asked, without much hope.

“He is… most insistent, your Majesty,” the man replied. Meaning that politics were involved and that refusing the audience would damage the now precarious relationship between Vordan and Khandar.

Marcus sighed. “All right, I will see him.”

He was passed on to a local man in servant livery he did not recognise. Looking at him closely, he did not appear to be Khandarai at all. Suspicious, but unwilling to cause an incident over a man’s face, Marcus made sure his escort was with him and gestured at the man to lead the way. They walked at length through the palace, leaving the residential quarters and heading towards the administrative section, now almost deserted in the evening. Eventually they stopped in front of an anonymous looking door. The unfamiliar servant opened the door for Marcus and bowed.

Marcus hesitated. In a show of mutual trust, all his meetings with Khandarai nobility had taken place with guards at a safe, but discreet distance. The unorthodox manner of the invitation suggested secrecy. If Marcus walked in with an armed escort he risked giving offence. On the other hand, if this was an assassination attempt… He shook his head. The door did not have a lock and he was armed. Marcus nodded at his guards that they should wait outside and he walked into the room as the servant closed the door behind him.

It was dark, the only source of light being a small lamp on a table in a corner. Marcus thought he was alone at first and he was just beginning to wonder if this was not a trap after all when a shrouded figure glided forwards from the shadows. Only the remnants of his military training kept Marcus from starting. He stood still, looking at the figure with a neutral expression. Whoever the other person was, they were wrapped head to foot in some black garment; even their face was covered.

Marcus cleared his throat. “Was it you who asked to see me?” he said in Khandarai.

The figure nodded and gestured towards a seat. Something tickled at the back of Marcus’ mind.

“I would rather stand, if you don’t mind,” he said. “And I would appreciate it if you got to the point. It is quite late, as I am sure you are aware.”

His companion tilted their head slightly to one side and remained quiet. Marcus could almost feel the other person’s gaze on him and it made him rather uncomfortable.

“Right,” he said, coldly. “Then I don’t see why I should remain here any longer.”

He made to storm out of the room when a chuckle from the shrouded person made him freeze in his tracks.

“I see you have gotten used to the comforts of power after all.” The shrouded man spoke Khandarai, but Marcus could not mistake that voice. “I do apologise for the secrecy, but I hope you’ll understand it was necessary.”

Marcus turned slowly, hardly daring to believe his senses. The man had unveiled his head. His face was much darker than Marcus remembered, and lined with age and sun. But the huge grey eyes were as brilliant as ever. It was the smile that gave Marcus pause. It did not flash for only a moment, but it remained in place, making the man look ten years younger as he beamed at Marcus.

“Janus?” Marcus switched to Vordanai with a grin of his own. “Is it really you?”

Janus bowed with a flourish in response. “Your Majesty,” he said with a glimmer of humour in his eyes.

Marcus barked out a laugh as he walked over to Janus and embraced him. There was a startled pause before Janus hugged him back. They were both laughing when they broke apart.

“The throne really has relaxed you, Marcus! It suits you,” he added as Marcus began to blush. After twenty years as king he finally understood why Janus had been so insistent on doing without formalities when they first met.

He clapped Janus on the shoulder and led them both to the pair of seats by the lamp. “It’s so good to see you again. We had not heard anything from or about you for years! I- we were beginning to worry.”

Janus sat down with a troubled look on his face. “I must apologise for my silence. My research took me ever further south until I lost all possibility of contact with Vordan.” A shadow passed over his face before being replaced by one of Janus’ usual summer lightning smiles. “I was heading back north when I heard you were coming to Khandar. I just had to take a detour to see you. I hope my bit of drama did not concern your guards excessively.” He gestured vaguely at himself and something clicked in Marcus’ mind. Janus had been wrapped in a similar garment when he first arrived at Fort Valor. Janus gave him a knowing look and they both smiled at the awkwardness of that first meeting.

Now that it had done its work, Janus removed his cloak and folded it away, revealing colourful clothes in a style Marcus had never seen before. Janus wore his hair long now, it fell loose to his shoulders. Though there was a generous amount of grey in it, the length countered the marks of age on his face.

“So, what have you been up to?” Marcus asked.

As if he had only been waiting for that question, Janus launched himself in an account of the latest years.

It was a pleasant surprise to hear how openly Janus discussed his past plans. He swept Marcus up in tales of his wars and intrigues. He told him about his allies and his enemies, his calculated risks and painful, if brief, defeats.

Janus’ old secrecy seemed to have vanished. Perhaps age had made him more open, perhaps it was happiness at seeing his old friend again. Or perhaps it was just because now he met Marcus as a peer, of sorts, and not as a tool.

Marcus waved away the thought. It was never as simple as being one or the other with him.

It made Marcus feel young again to listen to him. And for a moment he almost regretted not having been there at Janus’ side for all of it.

Janus carried on with his story and a glint in his eyes told Marcus that he had an idea of what was going on in his old subordinate’s mind. They were both comfortable leaving it unspoken. Marcus did not mention that he wished he had been there and Janus did not say he wished so too.

Janus finished his tale. He allowed himself a sigh and a grimace for losing the long war far south before recollecting how he would likely never have had the chance to pursue his natural studies if he’d had an army with him on the way back north.

Marcus couldn’t help but laugh as such shamefaced optimism. “I have a few ministers who could learn a thing or two from you about dealing with disappointment.”  
Janus grinned, but there was something forced in it.

“And Winter?” He asked. “I never had a chance to ask you about it. How was it, finding your sister again?” Janus tried to hide how deeply he cared about the subject, but there was an intensity in his eyes that broke Marcus’ heart. He did not need to ask to know that Janus’ search for a way to bring Mya back had not yet been successful.

“It was… honestly, at the beginning it was very confusing. For both of us. But we took our time working things through. We’re quite close these days.” He was trying not to make his own luck weigh on Janus, but he need not have worried. Janus just smiled at him with genuine affection. He had not given up yet.

“I am very happy for you, Marcus”

Marcus spoke before he could stop himself. “Why did you never tell me, Janus? Why didn’t you tell me about Mya? You knew my situation, we could have-” He closed his eyes, embarrassed at his outburst. He had been carrying this since his visit to Mieranhal, where he had tricked Janus’ servants into telling him about his childhood tragedy. But it was foolish to think Janus would have shared his pain with him. Janus never shared. He thought of the time when he first confronted him about Mya, without yet knowing the nature of their relationship. Would he have acted differently knowing she had been Janus’ sister? He didn’t know. With all likelihood Janus hadn’t known either.

Janus’ hand on his arm shook him from his reflection. He opened his eyes to see Janus looking at him earnestly.

“I’m sorry.”

Marcus just looked at him.

“I’m sorry Marcus. I wanted to tell you. At times I almost did.” He took a deep breath. “I was scared.”

Marcus blinked in surprise. He wondered how much it had cost Janus to admit this just now. Heartfelt reunion or not. He nodded, then smiled. “Age has made you soft.”

Janus blinked at him before returning his grin and the tension left them.

They abandoned the topic and spent some time discussing recent events back on the home continent and Marcus’ current political headaches. Janus drank in everything like a parched man.

Marcus finished his account of the tense situation with Borel. He studied Janus for a moment, who was looking at him with an unusual glint in his eye.

“Do you miss- do you ever miss Vordan?” Marcus asked.

Janus hesitated a moment before he smiled. “The Southern world is endlessly fascinating. The variety one finds when travelling here, both in the natural world and the customs of the local people is unbelievable when compared to Vordan and its neighbours.”

He started listing his discoveries and the books he had finally begun to write. Marcus listened at first out of politeness, but soon found himself genuinely interested and even started asking questions. He guessed age had changed him too. Janus’ excitement over scientific discoveries had once been a source of awkwardness for Marcus, who had never had any interest to spare for them. Now it was contagious.

They kept talking about all manner of things, both academic and personal, until daylight began to shine through the fissures in the window shutters. Janus glared at the light as though it had done him a personal wrong. He composed himself in a moment and simply sighed.

“That is it, then,” he said and rose from his seat.

“You’re not leaving?”

Janus smiled sadly at the wounded expression on Marcus’ face. “I am no more a welcome man in Khandar than I am in Vordan, I’m afraid. I must be on my way while there is still some darkness to hide me.”

“I- yes, of course. I understand.” Marcus rose as well.

Janus flashed one of his lightning smiles as he stepped towards Marcus with open arms. “I will write again. I promise.”

Marcus hugged him back and said nothing.

They nodded at each other in place of saying goodbye.

Marcus went to the door with a heavy weight in his chest. His hand was on the handle when he remembered something.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Hm?”

Marcus turned. “Do you ever miss home?”

Janus’ smile was there for a moment, then gone again. “Every single night, Marcus.”


	3. 1250

Early autumn in the rocky hills was already uncomfortably chill. Marcus, whose resistance to cold had gotten considerably worse in his old age, hunched his shoulders against the stiff breeze and resisted the temptation to hold his collar closer to his throat. It would not actually help, and it would make Janus take them inside out of concern for him. Marcus allowed himself a smile; his friend had gotten soft.

He glanced at Janus as they walked through the apple orchards around Mieranhal. He seemed unaffected by the cold, but after decades spent in the hottest lands in the world, that could not be true, even for Janus. Marcus had the distinct impression that Janus felt the cold even more bitterly than him, but that he enjoyed it. He gazed at the scene around them with a placid smile on his face, but Marcus, who knew him well, could see the emotion underneath.

Marcus could not help giving an encouraging squeeze to Janus’ arm, the support of which he had accepted in place of his walking stick. Janus favoured him with one   
of his quick smiles. The gesture unchanged in all these years, despite the network of wrinkles that now spread across his sun-abused face.

“Thank you, Marcus,” Janus said.

Marcus shrugged. “Not at all. Honestly, I’m sorry I couldn’t end your exile sooner. The people have… good memory.” It had taken forty years, the assurance that Janus had done nothing more exciting than writing about jungle wildlife for a good long while and a lot of arguing that by now he was too old to start a campaign from scratch anyway before the Deputies-General could be convinced to discreetly allow Janus back in the country.

“Hardly a bad thing to have, as these things go,” Janus said. “I have had a very full life and I am glad I can spend my last years in my home country. And that is that.”

Marcus grunted. “If you say so.”

Janus smiled faintly at the comment before his attention was caught by something.

“That must be the wall Uhlan built years ago! I admit I was concerned when Winter wrote about it. But it seems I did him a disservice. That placement is perfect.” Janus explained how the wind behaved strangely in that particular spot of the estate and how Uhlan’s construction offered shelter where it was needed and directed the air current where it would not do any damage to the orchard. The details went completely over Marcus’ head, but he could not help smiling at Janus’ knowledge and love of his ancestral land.

As they walked the estate grounds, Janus’ joy at being back could evidently no longer be contained. Marcus listened with pleasure and a measure of surprise as Janus explained the history of particular buildings or trees and even started telling anecdotes from his youth.

Marcus laughed openly at the trouble Janus used to get himself into as a child. Whether it was getting in the servants’ way with incessant questions about their work or falling in the stream because he was trying to see how the fish breathed. Mya appeared liberally in the stories, but Marcus could hear no bitterness in Janus’ tone when he mentioned her. Only affection and a little sadness. Even so, her absence was conspicuous when Janus told him stories about the years following her death.

“I am sorry, you know,” Marcus said suddenly.

“About what?”

“That you never found her. Frightening as the notion of bringing back the dead is, I always wished you success.” Marcus let out a breath. “I just wanted you to know that.”

Janus was quiet for a moment. “Thank you. If it will ease your existential anxiety, I do not think it is actually possible. I have come to understand something of the nature of death and of demons. There are stages and levels. But the margin is little and once someone is gone, they are gone. Besides,” he added with a shrug. “Old age after a lifetime of war and study puts death in a certain perspective. I have no regrets. It was a lifetime obsession, but it did not consume me as it could have. That, I believe, I owe to you.”

“What?”

Janus smiled. “When you opposed me in Murnsk. I felt betrayed at first, but all you did was show me the limit. I meant every word I told you the next day. I always kept that altercation in mind, used it to guide me. I cannot say I never strayed past that limit, but I do believe that, when I did, I was not far before I returned.”

Marcus did not have a reply to that, so he said nothing.

They had walked a fair way into the park and Marcus was grateful when Janus steered them towards a bench under a large oak tree. They sat in comfortable silence for a long time before Janus spoke. His voice was quiet and strained.

“She could never have led an army. She felt the pain of others too keenly even at the age of twelve. With adulthood and a more intimate knowledge of suffering…” he shook his head. “My whole life I kept seeing her with the eyes of the little boy I was. Her ideas had genuine greatness. And she truly would have been much more brilliant than I ever was, had she been given the chance. But now that I have seen as much of the world as anyone could, I no longer believe she could have changed it. I told myself for so long that she would. I did so to justify all the lives I threw against each other. Telling myself that it would be worth it, not just for me, but for everyone, if it led to bringing her back. ‘She will revolutionise the world,’ I would repeat to myself at night. ‘Make it so that there will be no more need for war, even’. But I know the cost of change now. In the end it was a selfish pursuit. I just wanted to see my sister again.” Janus closed his eyes. He let his head hang with an odd sense of finality.

Marcus looked at him for a long moment. He wanted to reassure him. Tell him that he understood, that he would find no reproach from him. That whatever his motives, Janus had done a great deal of good to the world.

But some things are beyond words.

He covered Janus’ hand with his own and gripped it tight. Janus returned the pressure. A warm drop fell on Marcus’ hand.

A while later, when Janus’ shoulders stopped shaking, Marcus put his arm around them. “It’s getting cold. Should we go back inside?”

Janus took a deep breath and nodded. When he looked at Marcus, his eyes were shining with more than tears. “Thank you, Marcus.”

They walked arm in arm back towards the house. As they passed through the orchard, Janus picked two late ripening apples from a low branch and passed one to Marcus.

Darkness was falling quickly now and by the time they approached it, the main house stood as a stark black shape against the fading light in the sky. A few windows were lit with a tremulous glow, promising the warmth of a roaring fire inside. The door opened and Marcus recognised the distant figure waving at them as Winter, her white hair almost indistinguishable from its old pale blond. She must have returned while they were walking in the park.

Once they reached her, Winter did not fuss over them for staying out in the cold until dark. She just hugged them both and told them dinner was ready.

Later that evening, the three of them sat in front of the fire, exchanging war stories with a pot of coffee where years ago there had been a bottle or two of wine. Marcus always used to feel an odd sort of guilt when he thought about Janus. Not because of the exile, but because he realised that, when they first met, they were both running away from the death of a sister. Marcus had found his again. Janus never did. But now, as he watched Winter and Janus chatting away with large grins on their faces and a conspiratorial glint in their eyes, the guilt was replaced by an odd feeling of peace. If nothing could give Janus his family back, then Marcus would just have to share his own.


End file.
